


Death (is a Suprising Cuddle Buddy)

by Dubstep_Wombat



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: 5 Things, Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-12 11:10:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5664010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dubstep_Wombat/pseuds/Dubstep_Wombat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy Lewis has been Death’s companion her entire life, but only she and anyone she trusts can see them. Death’s not very intrusive, but they can be a little creepy. Needless to say, Darcy doesn’t like to trust people. But sometimes she just can’t help it.</p><p>Or, five times someone Darcy loved met Death, and one time they met Death for real.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jane

**Author's Note:**

> The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.

Darcy Lewis was shocked as hell when alien gods crashed down from the sky on rainbow colored Einstein-Rosen bridges.

Death was not.

In retrospect, Thor and his buddies shouldn’t have been all that shocking. Not when Darcy was the human vessel for the grim reaper. Well, vessel wasn’t exactly the right word, but Death liked to use “anchor.” That always required a pretty technical explanation. It was full of metaphysical new-age type stuff mixed in with references to a lot of religions. (Every religion, actually.) Darcy wasn’t good at explaining. 

The important part was Death hung out with Darcy a lot, and Darcy was the only who could see or hear them.

 _That’s not quite true_ , Death reminded her.

Okay, so that wasn’t quite true. Only Darcy could hear them, but anyone Darcy learned to trust could see Death in whatever form Death wished to adopt that day. (Death could choose any form, though they always ended up black. Whether this was by necessity or preference, Darcy couldn’t say.)

To make her life easier, Darcy tried to keep everyone at arm’s length. It didn’t always work. Darcy found out that Jane and Erik had wormed their way into her heart shortly after Thor left New Mexico. They caused quite a ruckus when they woke up one morning to see a black bear watching Darcy make coffee.

After a short round of explanations, (Darcy loved working with smart people) both of them had calmed down. Jane looked at Death with the expression she usually saved for the sky. Erik just looked resigned. “I just wish you hadn't decided you trusted us quite so early in the morning.” 

Darcy worried her lower lip. “Does that mean you don’t want me to help you guys anymore?” She tried to say it as nonchalantly as possible. She hoped to keep a tight lid on the memories of the approximately half dozen times she’d tried to trust before.

Jane jumped up from where she’d been watching Death. “No! Of course not! Right Erik?” she glared at Erik, who held up his hands in surrender.

“I only meant I wish I was more awake, is all,” he said.

But despite what Erik said, he _did_ leave. disappearing into one of SHIELD’s black SUVs. Darcy knew this was because government goons offered him some science thing to study, but she couldn’t help wondering. Would he have agreed to go with SHIELD if he hadn't known about Death?

Death would know the answer, but they wouldn’t tell her. Death had never told her anything, and Darcy understood. Most days, she was grateful for it. She was sure her companion had some great horrible knowledge that Darcy didn’t want the burden of carrying. But sometimes… she couldn't help but wish for a couple of answers.

Especially when they found what exactly happened to Erik. What Thor’s brother did to him. Was that her fault? Darcy paced back and forth while Jane watched the news footage of the battle and it’s aftermath on the couch. Death, currently in the form of a fluffy housecat, didn’t offer her any answers. They twined themselves between her legs. It was meant to be comforting. It wasn’t, but Darcy appreciated the gesture.

 _You can ask me, you know_ , Death told her, tail curling around Darcy’s ankle. Darcy frowned. She supposed she could. She could ask Death all she wanted, but she knew Death would never answer. _But you always have the right to ask._

Darcy shook her head and looked at Jane. The scientist needed a hug a lot more than she needed Darcy to ask useless questions. But Darcy had been trying not to draw attention to herself. Or more accurately, trying not to draw attention to Death. Though Darcy knew Death didn’t answer, that was always hard to explain to other people. She didn’t want to drive Jane away too. She didn’t think she could stand that.

 _Do you trust her, or don’t you?_ Death asked. Darcy looked down at the black cat and then back up to the back of the brunette’s head. It wasn’t that easy.

_It could be._

  
Darcy swallowed as sigh. She walked back around the couch, careful not to obstruct Jane’s view of the television, and sat next to the scientist. Jane didn’t say anything, but she immediately wrapped an arm around her assistant. Darcy hugged the woman back. death leapt up on the couch and transformed into a large gorilla that pulled both women into their arms. And there Darcy and Jane sat, cuddling with Death as the world changed forever.


	2. Thor

Darcy wasn’t sure when she started trusting Thor. Her interactions with him had mostly taken place during life or death situations. If Thor noticed the blackbird following Darcy around Greenwich, he didn’t say anything. He had bigger things on his mind, after all.

But Darcy was pretty sure she didn’t trust him because of the battles Thor had fought on behalf of humanity. It was that, after the battle, he came back. He proved that Jane wasn’t some fling he’d kissed running off adrenaline. (Like how she’d kissed Ian. He completely understood, thankfully.) No, Jane meant more to Thor than that, and when he showed up on their porch and snogged Jane silly, he proved it.

 Darcy didn’t realize any of this at that moment. She ushered Erik and Ian out of the flat. Those two crazy kids deserved some alone time. Whether they used it to talk or to bang was _none of their business, Ian!_ Meanwhile, the trio got a greasy English breakfast at a restaurant Ian recommended. Darcy didn’t realize the scales had tipped in Thor’s favor until they got back.

 When they reentered the apartment, Death had shifted from being a blackbird to being a black squirrel. They curled up on Darcy’s shoulder. Thor and Jane had obviously been kissing, but not, thankfully, anything else. (At least as far as Darcy could tell, but she wasn’t looking!) Thor beamed at Erik, but when he turned to Darcy, he frowned. Not at her, but at the small black squirrel perched on her shoulder.

 Oh crap, Darcy thought, while Death twitched their little, black nose.

 Erik, seeing where Thor was looking, grabbed Ian. “Ian, my boy!” he said, hoping to distract the kid who wasn’t in on the secret. “Come, I need you to help me with something.”

 “Um, alright,” Ian said, following Erik out of the room. Darcy noted that Erik had accidentally led the boy into the coat closet.

  _You’ll need to explain right now_ , Death told her. _They won’t stay in there for long._

 “Darcy,” Thor said, having noticed Ian’s quick removal. “That animal on your shoulder… is not what it seems.”

 “Yeah, I know. It’s Death,” Darcy said. “I’m sort of… Death calls me their anchor? Or something? I’m no-”

 But Thor’s face brightened. “You are Death’s mortal carrier!” he said. “We have legends of this on Asgard, but I have never seen it before.” He peered more closely at the squirrel. “In the illustrations of these legends, Death’s form is not usually quite so small.”

 Death flicked their tail in annoyance. _I am what I am. I do not need to appear large to_ be _large._

 “Um,” Darcy said. “Death says that they don’t need to look big to be big.”

 Thor nodded to the squirrel. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to offend.”

  _I know._

 “They know,” Darcy translated. She’d never played translator before. While Erik and Jane accepted Death’s presence, they’d never tried to speak with them. No one had. While sometimes Jane looked at them like she would like to run some tests, she’d never actually tried. “Um, Thor?” Darcy asked. “These legends of yours… do they say I’m cursed or…”

  _You are not cursed_ , Death reassured her.

 Darcy ignored the squirrel. Death may have been her companion her entire life, but they never provided her with any real information. What the Asgardians knew may not be exactly accurate, but it would be better than what she already had. Or didn’t have.

 Thor looked alarmed. “No. It merely is. Though, it is an honor to be so trusted by you, Lady Darcy.”

 She smiled at him. “Um, thanks?”

 “No, thank you,” Thor said, smiling back. “Though I will endeavor not to draw attention to it. Perhaps we can let your intern and Erik out of the closet now?”

Darcy jumped, having completely forgotten about Ian and Erik in there. “Oh my god.” She turned and opened the closet doors.


	3. Steve

The first time Darcy met Captain America, Death was not there. Darcy had no idea why Death wasn’t always around. She’d learned that their comings and goings didn’t correspond to disasters or epidemics. At least, not ones on Earth.

After Ultron and Sokovia, Jane finally put her foot down. She would no longer be separate from Thor’s Avenger-ing “because it was safer that way.” 

“First of all, London proves I’m not actually safer,” Jane said. “Second of all, if Tony Stark wants to muck with alien technology, I want to be there to slap some sense into him!” 

Thor, who was probably looking forward to watching Jane slap Tony, didn’t argue. Nor did he point out the hypocrisy of her trying to prevent Stark from mucking with the alien tech that had made  _ her  _ career. Darcy had no such qualms and pointed it out with a certain level of glee. (Darcy loved Jane to death, but she also loved to argue.) 

Jane pursed her lips. “Well, I don’t try to build stuff out of alien technology! I’m just trying to understand it.” 

“So other people can build stuff out of it?” Darcy asked. 

“But not murder bots!” Jane protested. “I’m not encouraging the building of murder bots!” 

Darcy relented only because they were already on their way to the new and shiny Avengers facility. If Darcy didn’t try to sleep on the flight, she’d be too tired to function when they arrived. When she woke up, Death was gone. It wasn’t unusual, and it was a bit of a relief. That was one thing she didn’t have to worry about as she and Jane moved into their new lab and quarters. 

Walking into the facility, Darcy a backpack on her back, her purse in the crook of one elbow, the handle to her wheeled suitcase in the other elbow, and a box of Jane’s homemade science equipment in her arms. She was walking lopsided because the handle of her suitcase wasn’t designed to reach all the way up to her her elbow, despite how short she was. It was uncomfortable.

“Can I take that for you?” someone asked. Darcy looked up (and up) to see Steve Rogers.  _ Captain America  _ was asking if he could take her box from her hands. 

She tried valiantly to mask her awe. After all, she didn’t freak out (much) during two different alien invasions. She could keep her cool here. “Actually, can you take this one?” she asked, jerking her elbow to indicate the stupid case dragging her down. 

Captain Rogers nodded. A little reshuffling later and Darcy was standing upright again. The first Avenger dragged her suitcase behind him as they walked. “I’m Darcy,” She said. “Jane’s assistant.” 

“I know,” the captain said. “Nat and I get briefed on everyone who comes here.” 

“That’s fair,” Darcy said. “Considering most people already know who you are.” 

“True.” He shrugged, but his face was so carefully impassive that Darcy changed the subject. 

They ended up talking about Thor. Or, more accurately, the alcohol Thor brought it from Asgard. “He gave me some of it once,” he admitted and shrugged. “I didn’t drink it.” 

“It tastes like sweet licorice, in case you were wondering,” Darcy said. 

Steve, as he told her to call him, looked at her with wide eyes. “He gave you some? When Tony asked Thor, he said ‘tis not fight for mortal man.’”

“I am no man,” Darcy said. 

Steve looked at her then looked ahead, the tops of his ears just a little pink. “I noticed that.” 

Darcy laughed. 

She couldn’t help but be grateful Death wasn’t there. Not that she minded Death hanging around, but… Captain America stuff aside, Steve Rogers himself was that kind of wildly ridiculous human being you couldn’t help but like after just meeting them. And she couldn’t help but  _ trust  _ him after talking with him for five seconds. 

If Death had been there, it would have been really awkward. 

It was probably going to be equally awkward when Death got back. 

Steve hung around a lot, despite the fact that his work and her work didn't have any overlap. But she wasn’t allowed to hang out with him during her off hours. Classified. He must have decided he would hang out with her. Why he wanted to hang out with her was a mystery she hadn’t solved, but as long as he did, she wasn’t complaining. 

It had taken her a while to work up to it, but she asked him about the senators and congressmen he’d met back in the forties. His knowledge was fascinating. He was relieved that someone found the past interesting, and she sighed when he told her that. “There are lots of people who want to know about what life was like in the forties or the thirties or the twenties. You're just not hanging out with any of them. You hang out with too many science types.” 

“And you don’t?” he asked. 

Jane raised an eyebrow, having given up all pretending she wasn’t eavesdropping. 

“Science types are awesome,” Darcy said for Jane’s benefit. Steve chuckled. Jane nodded and swept out, eyes on a tablet. “But they’re not the only types out there,” Darcy said when Jane was gone. “And, as they would tell you, your samples of future people suffers from a little selection bias.”

“Really?” Steve asked, after he got finished laughing. 

And that was when Death waltzed in. 

It had been about a month. Death had been gone for both shorter and longer periods of time. Darcy had pretty much gotten used to the idea that they were completely unpredictable. 

But Steve jumped when he saw the large black panther appear. He stood and was about to slide into a fighting stance when Darcy put herself between him and Death. He frowned at her. “What is that, and how did it get in here?” 

She chewed her lower lip and sighed. “I can explain?” she offered. 

He looked between her and Death, his eyebrows furrowing. “You might want to. Now.” 

“Um, well… Steve meet Death. Death meet Steve. Thor’s better at explaining this than I am, but, basically, Death hangs out with me a lot? You can see them if you’re my friend and I trust you. Thor, Jane and Erik can see them too.”

Steve’s frown deepened but the assembly alarm went off. He looked between her and the blaring siren for a moment before making a decision. “Well talk about this when I get back, he said. She nodded. He ran off.


	4. Sam

But they didn’t talk about it when he got back. When Steve got back, he couldn't talk. He was too busy being unconscious. 

Darcy paced back and forth outside Steve’s “recovery room.” She was angry no one was doing anything to help him. 

“There's not much we can do,” Helen Cho said, a woman Darcy had previously respected. Then that woman refused to help Steve. 

_ You’re not being reasonable _ , Death accused, still in their black panther form. 

“His body heals at an incredible rate,” Helen continued. “We still don’t know the exact nature of Erskine’s formula. Anything I try could disrupt it, and the Cradle can’t reproduce cells enhanced by uncertain means. It’s not worth the risk. He’ll be fine in a few hours, maybe a day at the most, but he has to heal on his own.” 

It didn’t stop Darcy from worrying. Was it her fault? Was he too distracted by her and Death to focus out on the field? 

“Hey,” someone said. Darcy jumped. She turned to see Sam Wilson poking his head out of Steve’s room. “You can come in, you know.” She’d seen him around, especially with Steve. He’d introduced them, but they’d never talked. 

Darcy’s hands pulled at the hem of her sweater. “I’m not sure he wants me in there.” 

Sam frowned. “You two have a fight?” 

“I’m not sure,” Darcy admitted. “I think we were about to, but then-” 

Sam nodded. “Well, come in anyway.” She still hesitated and the former para-rescue grinned at her. “If he objects to pretty girls worrying over him, he’s an idiot.” 

Darcy smiled, grateful for both the compliment and the humor, and followed him through the door. 

And the small amount of good cheer Sam had imparted vanished. 

Steve looked awful. He was still and pale… it didn’t even look like he was breathing. Only the heart monitor told her he was alive at all. “Oh God,” she murmured. 

“Hey,” Sam said, bringing her attention back to him. “It looks bad, but he’s survived worse. He’ll be fine. Trust me. He’ll wake up in a few hours and you guys can have that fight you were talking about.” 

It was a weak joke, and Darcy couldn’t even bring herself to give him a pity chuckle. Same sighed, found her a chair and offered her a crossword puzzle. She looked up at him, confused. “What?” 

“I usually play music and do crosswords while I’m waiting for Wonder boy here to heal up,” he said. “I think he’d feel weird if we stared at him the whole time with worried expressions.” 

Darcy frowned but nodded. Sam was probably right. “I’m actually more of a sudoku girl,” she said, pulling out her phone and pulling up the relevant app. 

He nodded and put on his iPod while they both pretended not to count the beeps signalling Steve’s pulse. 

Darcy was on her fifth puzzle when Sam coughed lightly. She looked up to see him staring at the ground around her chair. “I don’t want to alarm you,” he said, “but there’s a giant black cat at your feet.” 

Darcy started and looked down at Death. Death met her gaze and blinked. They were still a black panther. She looked at Sam who hadn’t moved but also hadn’t taken his eyes off Death. How could she trust him already? She looked back down at the big cat. 

Death looked back and blinked again. 

Darcy sighed. “They’re fine,” she said to Sam. 

“Uh… it’s not that I don’t believe you,” Sam said, “but I’m gonna need more of an explanation than that.” 

“I’m not good at explaining it, but…” Darcy sighed. “Don’t freak out, okay? That’s Death.” 

“Death?” Sam asked, incredulous. 

“Death,” Darcy said. “And I’m sort of an… anchor is the word Death uses. It just means Death uses me as a sort of reference point in spacetime for this particular dimension… I think? Honestly, Thor explains it better. And Jane understands it more.” 

“Uh huh. And… does Death always look like a black panther?” 

“No, they can look however they want. But they usually look like an Earth animal,” Darcy said. “I think that’s for my benefit.” 

Sam nodded. “And… how come I didn’t see them until just now?” 

“Death only shows themselves to me and people I trust,” Darcy said. 

Sam looked up from Death to Darcy for the first time since this conversation started. He smiled. “Thanks. I trust you too.” 

“Thanks?” 

“Do they ever look like the grim reaper?” Sam asked. “Black clothed skeleton with a scythe?” Death snorted in distaste. “Guess not,” Sam said, trying to keep the laughter out of his voice. 

Darcy wasn’t laughing. She was looking at Steve. “He’d just found out,” she admitted. “When you guys got the call to assemble. I didn’t even get the chance to explain.” 

“Darcy,” Sam said, and she heard him get up out of his chair. “Darcy, this isn’t your fault. An old enemy got some new abilities we weren’t expecting.” 

“But what if he was distracted and that’s why-” 

“It’s not your fault,” Sam insisted. He put his hand on her shoulder. “Honestly, Darcy, we’ve both seen weirder than this. It’s not that strange.” 

“It isn’t?” Darcy asked, voice flat. 

“Not really,” but it wasn’t Sam who was reassuring her. Steve blinked his eyes open. “Not compared to armies from space. Or flying aircraft carriers. Or Bucky still being alive.” 

“Steve!” Darcy went to hug him but hesitated. She didn’t want to hurt him any worse. 

Steve smiled and opened his arms to her. “I’m fine, Darcy.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. It was awkward, leaning over the bed rail and medical equipment, but Steve hugged her back. She didn’t think she’d ever gotten a better hug. 

“Hey,” Sam said. “Where’s my hug?” 

“Wait your turn,” Steve said. 

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Sam shot back. 

Death put their front legs on the bed and headbutted Steve’s ankle. Darcy pulled back, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. They- I can explain now.” 

Steve looked just as embarrassed. “No need. I was kind of… eavesdropping on your conversation with Sam.” He shrugged. “Sorry.” 

Death leaped on the bed and sat on Steve’s legs. “Hey!” Steve protested, but it wasn’t any use. Death did what Death did. 

_ If I didn’t, he would get up right now, and he needs at least two more hours of rest _ , Death told her. 

“Death says you can’t get up right now because you need two more hours of rest,” Darcy translated. 

Steve looked a little nonplussed at the big cat on his legs. “Um… okay, but we have a lead on Bucky and I’d like to-” 

_ You can wait two hours _ , Death said. 

“I don’t think this is negotiable, Steve,” Darcy said, sitting back down in her chair. “Sudoku?” she offered.

Steve leaned back against the pillows, defeated. “Fine.”


	5. Bucky

Both Steve and Sam were nice about her being Death’s anchor, but they didn’t adjust to it as well as Jane or Thor had. Sometimes they couldn’t resist asking uncomfortable questions. They both seemed to have a hard time believing Darcy had no special powers because of Death. She couldn’t make Death do anything, nor could she make Death answer any questions. 

For a while, Darcy was frightened. She knew her answers were unsatisfying to Steve. She didn’t want him to decide she wasn’t worth the trouble. 

He didn’t, or at least, he was distracted before he could decide to.

Steve had been doggedly searching for Bucky ever since learning his friend was alive, but he’d never had any solid leads. Until a few weeks ago, that is.

Darcy watched, wide eyed, as they hauled the Winter Soldier in. She saw Steve’s broken face as they were forced to lock the assassin up. Bucky’s programming was breaking down, but it wasn’t a steady process. Sometimes he was the Soldier through and through. Sometimes he was blank, like a switch turned off in his brain. Sometimes he circled around in the reinforced “recovery room” like a lost puppy. By necessity, it was more of a cage than a room. Steve gritted his teeth when faced with it. 

Wanda could help, but she had to get close. Without Pietro to whisk her away if Bucky went berserk, it was too dangerous. Mostly for Bucky. If he attacked her, Wanda would attack back. The Winter Soldier may be one of the greatest assassins of all time, but he wasn’t a match for the the Scarlet Witch.

Steve didn’t stop by the lab anymore. He didn’t talk to her at all. Sam barely paused to say hello. If Darcy wanted to talk to them, she’d have to park herself in front of the room that held Bucky Barnes and wait. 

For the longest time, she wasn’t sure she wanted to talk to them. But she found she missed Steve and Sam too much. She made her way down to where they were keeping Bucky. It wasn’t exactly welcoming. All the lights in the facility were bright and harsh fluorescent. In her own room, Darcy had lamps and candles to make it feel more homey and less industrial. Here, the hall smelled strongly of disinfectant. There was a door and a window of reinforced glass into Bucky’s room. The bed, all the furniture he had, was bolted to the ground. There were vents through which dendrotoxin gas could be pumped. An Avenger had control of the button for the gas and guarded Bucky at all times. Everything emphasized everyone else’s security over Bucky’s recovery. 

She knew Steve hated everything about their arrangement, but it was the only way Tony Stark would allow Bucky into the facility. Steve might still have rebelled if War Machine and Vision hadn’t been here to enforce Stark’s edicts.    


Neither Sam nor Steve were there. Vision was on watch, and he nodded at her without taking his eyes off his charge. Death, in the form of a black monkey, leaped onto the android’s shoulders and sat there. It wasn’t the first time Death had climbed on someone who had no idea they were there. It probably wouldn’t be the last, but it always made Darcy more than a little nervous. 

“How is he?” she asked. 

“Not well,” Vision said. “The isolation isn’t helping him any, but he’s too dangerous to be in there with anyone who isn’t a fighter. Yet, all our fighters trigger him into attacking.” 

Darcy nodded and looked at Bucky.

He was cleaner than the surveillance footage Steve had been so excited about a few weeks before. But his hair was still a stringy mess and his eyes still had bags big enough to hold Darcy’s entire sweater collection. He wasn’t doing anything, unless staring at the wall counted as “doing something.” 

“Can he see us?” she asked. 

“Yes,” Vision said. “Sometimes we bother him; sometimes we don’t.” 

Darcy watched Bucky for a while. She’d sort of hoped, once she was here, that an idea would present itself to her. Some way to help. Then Steve would like her again, despite Death and Death’s incredible unhelpfulness. Now that she was here, she found she wanted to help Bucky for Bucky. She’d been through tough times before. Not as tough as this, but tough enough to understand how being alone would not be helping. She knew what it was like to be isolated because everyone was afraid of you.

Death crept off Vision and crawled back up to her, wrapping their arms around her neck. Their monkey fur was soft and warm. It was a pretty good hug all in all. 

Then came that idea. The idea Darcy had hoped for. She looked down at Death, then at Bucky and back down at Death. If Darcy trusted him, he wouldn’t have to be alone. Bucky could do whatever he wanted, but he couldn’t hurt Death. But… could she choose to trust someone? Someone she had never met before? 

Death provided no answers, but, then again, Death never did. 

How did Darcy bring herself to trust Bucky when she’d never even spoken to him? When all she knew about him was that he was an unstable assassin? What if her trusting him made him worse? Assuming she could bring herself to trust him at all, which would be difficult.

She used to trust easily, when she was little. Darcy had trusted her parents; they had sent her away. Darcy had trusted a few friends in school; they’d had her moved to another class. Darcy had trusted her first real boyfriend; he’d broken up with her and never spoke with her after. 

Darcy swore never to trust again. 

But Darcy trusted Jane. Darcy trusted Thor. Darcy trusted Steve. Darcy trusted Sam. She wanted to trust Bucky. Why? 

Darcy trusted Jane because Jane was fearless. She wasn’t afraid to believe in the impossible, and she wasn’t afraid to face the unknown.

Darcy trusted Thor because she’d watched him change from someone arrogant into someone humble. And because she could see that those lessons had stuck hard. 

Darcy trusted Steve because he was selfless. He placed himself solidly between people and whoever or whatever wanted to harm them. Steve thought everyone worth saving. 

Darcy trusted Sam because he had a heart bigger than the sky. He would try to help everyone he met lift the burdens they carried, despite carrying some heavy burdens himself. 

Darcy looked back at the man inside the recovery room. How big was her heart? She looked down at Death. 

_ I’ll try.  _

They crept into the room, walls meaning nothing to Death, and approached Bucky slowly. He didn’t react. They placed one hand on his leg. He still didn’t react. 

Darcy let out a breath. It didn’t work. She could borrow all Jane’s courage, Thor’s ability to change, Steve selflessness, and Sam’s heart. None of it would make any difference. She’d still be just Darcy, completely normal except for the one thing. The one completely useless, unhelpful thing. 

Death glared at her through Bucky’s window.  _ Jane’s courage, Sam’s heart. None of that is yours to take. I thought this was about helping Bucky, not you. _

Darcy glared back a moment, but Death was probably right. She took a deep breath and looked at Bucky again. And blinked in surprise. He’d switched from staring at the wall to staring at the window. Actually, to staring at her. She met his eyes and… God, he looked so lost.

It wasn’t fair that Tony had isolated him like this. It was wrong. “Bucky,” she murmured, fingertips resting against the glass. I wish I could help you. How do I help you?

And then… and then Bucky looked down. And jumped! He saw Death! He leaned away, confusion evident, but he didn’t try to throw Death away. Darcy thought that might be encouraging. Death climbed up Bucky’s side to his shoulder and wrapped their little monkey arms around his neck. 

The assassin blinked. Death nuzzled under his chin. Bucky put his hands up as if to either pet Death or pull them off, but he did neither. Instead, his hands just hovered. 

Darcy wondered what to do next when Steve came by to trade off shifts with Vision. 

“Darcy?” he asked after Vision left. “How’s he doing?” 

“Um,” Darcy said, pulling back. 

Steve looked in and saw immediately what was going on. “You trust Bucky?” 

Darcy shrugged. “It’s the only way I can think of to help.” 

Steve pulled her into a hug. “Thank you.”    


“No problem,” Darcy said, slightly muffled by the press of Steve’s shirt. He smelled nice. 

“Hey punk,” came a voice from inside. It was hoarse and quiet, but it was also definitely Bucky. Steve and Darcy jumped and looked inside. He had his flesh hand around Death, holding them close. His expression was somewhere between amused and confused. “I remember you being a lot worse with gorgeous women.” 

Darcy blushed.


	6. Steve

The sun shone brightly, bathing them all in its muggy warmth. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and Darcy was pretty sure she could hear robins chirping. It wasn’t right. None of this was right. It should be raining. There should be big, gray clouds pouring down heavy raindrops on them all. She should hear the steady roar of falling water in her hears, not singing birds. She should be cold; her hair should be wet. 

It shouldn’t be sunny for Steve Roger’s funeral. 

He’d been alone and hunted. His stance on the Superhuman Registration Act had turned him into a pariah. A lot of criminals wanted to take advantage of that. One of them succeeded. Bucky had found them in time to keep Crossbones from escaping but not in time to save Steve’s life. 

At first, Darcy hadn’t believed it. Steve Rogers “died” before. More than once. He was always alive. Alway strong. Always fighting. 

But the funeral hadn’t been closed casket. She started crying when she saw him in there, and she hadn’t been able to stop. At this point, watching them lower him down, her tears were silent. They rolled down her face in big, fat drops she didn’t have the energy to dash away. Only Jane and Thor’s presence on either side of her kept her from falling apart.

When the funeral was over, she hurried back to her room, hopefully a place she could curl up under blankets and pretend the past week hadn’t happened. Where she could hide while she worked on settling the upheaval in her soul. 

But once there, with her back against the closed door, she found she needed the upheaval. The slightest calm gave way to aching, awful pain and fresh tears. 

She turned and punched the door. It hurt but not enough. She punched it again, this time with her other fist. And again and again. Harder and harder and still not painful enough. God, just break it down! But Darcy wasn’t strong enough to break it down. She was just strong enough to scrape a few layers of skin off her knuckles. Strong enough to make her hands swollen and throbbing. There’d be dark bruises tomorrow. But Darcy wasn’t done. She swung at the door again. 

_ Darcy _ . Death had been shaped like a butterfly all day. They fluttered by her ear.  _ Darcy _ . 

“No!” she screamed and swung her hand. She caught Death’s little body and smashed them hard into the wall. Then she froze, horrified. What had she done? 

_ Nothing. You’ve done nothing. _ Death pulled themselves away from the wall. Though Darcy would have killed a normal butterfly, Death was Death. They didn’t go away. 

Darcy’s hands were shaking. What had she done? She’d tried to kill Death. Oh God, what had she done? She sank to the floor. What had she done? 

_ Nothing. Darcy. Darcy, look at me. _ Darcy looked at Death. Death flapped its wings.  _ You have to stop being afraid of me. _

Darcy looked at Death. What? No. She wasn’t- that wasn’t- it was other people that-

_ Darcy. You are afraid of me. You have always been afraid of me. You never ask me questions because you fear my answers. You never blame me for your troubles because you fear my retaliation. You never even speak directly to me. You are afraid, Darcy Lewis. You always have been. _

Darcy looked at Death. 

_ Ask _ , the black butterfly urged.  _ Ask me the question. Ask me the question you’ve always wanted to ask.  _

Darcy looked at Death. She swallowed. “Why?” she asked. Her voice grew louder and louder. “Why me? Why did you have to pick me to be your fucking anchor, you bastard! You ruined my life! My own parents were afraid of me! I couldn’t have any friends, anyone who- who might lo…” She was crying again. Would she ever stop? “There were so few people that I trusted and you know that and it’s your fault and you still TOOK ONE AWAY FROM ME!” she collapsed and sobbed, her head in her hands. “Why?” 

She felt a slight movement on her head, like a little breeze. Death had landed on her hair. 

_ I didn’t pick you. We are not as separate as you insist. Both of us are part of something greater. You may condemn me for ruining your life if you wish. I do not know whether you would have found acceptance in the family you were born into without me. It may be. Or it may be they would still have feared you. But do not allow their failure to diminish the love of the family you have found here. Jane, Erik, Thor, Sam, Bucky and Steve all love you. _

“What the hell are you talking about?” Darcy spat.

_ Shall I show you? There are many things I can show you, if you are not afraid.  _

Darcy wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t sure she was anything anymore, except a boiling pain that fizzed like anger in her hands and in her head. “I’m not afraid.” 

_ Brace yourself _ , Death warned. And then… the world changed. 

_ Everything was brighter. All the colors Darcy had seen in her entire lie made up only a small portion of what she now perceived. Death could see many more wavelengths than were visible to human eyes, and Darcy was now seeing through the eyes of Death. _

_ They had chosen the form of a snake. Their slender body glinted with colors Darcy had never seen before. She couldn’t describe these new colors, much less name them. _

_ Death slithered over rubble and rock, toward something larg. Darcy started when she realized it was Steve. _

_ How he shone! Death reflected many colors, but Steve- Steve was made of light. _

You all look like that _ , Death told her.  _ You’re all so beautiful. 

_ Steve noticed the little snake crawling toward him, and he recognized them for who they were. “Death,” he choked out, and Darcy winced. God, he sounded like he was in so much pain. “Darcy. is she-?”  _

Peace _ , Death told him.  _ She’s safe. I’m here for you.

_ No! Darcy thought.  _

_ “Yeah,” Steve coughed and leaned back. “That was my second guess.” The lights with his body were shifting, changing. They started slowly at first, but got faster and faster the closer and closer Death got. Darcy realized this was what dying looked like. It wasn’t a light going out. It was a light changing. All the parts of Steve that made him Steve were transforming. He was still beautiful, but he wasn’t going to be Steve anymore.  _

_ Darcy felt like her heart was breaking all over again. No.  _

_ “Death?” Steve asked, his voice quiet.  _

Yes?  _  
_

_ “Could you tell Darcy- tell her for me,” he stopped and took a shaking breath. “Tell her thank you. For being there. For being her. And tell her- tell her to take care of Bucky, will you? He needs someone like her. Like I did.”  _

I will.

Banging on the door behind her wrenched Darcy out of Death’s head. She blinked and the world went back to its normal colors: flat and dull. “Darcy,” someone said into the wood behind her. She recognized Bucky’s voice.

Darcy wrenched open the door and threw her arms around Bucky. She started crying again. (Would she ever stop crying?) She buried her face in his neck as he pulled her close. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry.” 

“No,” Darcy murmured. She pulled back and shook her head. “No, it’s not your fault. It’s okay.” She brushed his hair away from his face. He still hasn’t cut it. 

Bucky frowned. “Your hands.” 

She looked sheepish. “I may have done a lot of punching.” 

He snorted and held up his flesh hand. It was swollen and bruised. “That makes two of us.” 

Darcy swallowed and wiped the tears from her eyes. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go get healed up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to [Orlha](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Orlha) and Sarra Torrens for helping me finish this!


	7. Author's Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Not part of the story; not fiction at all

When I wrote this story, I had originally planned to do a sequel, in which Death meets more Avengers, like Natasha, Tony and Vision, and we would further explore the idea that Darcy and Death were more connected than she thought. This I can no longer do. Now, this story seems so... so naive I can barely stomach the fact that I wrote it. 

I watched my father die on February 17. 

He'd been in the hospital pretty much since the first of the year, but we thought he was on the mend. He was even discharged to a skilled care facility for rehab. Which is where he went into septic shock, and he couldn't recover from that. 

I know a lot of science, especially biology. I know death is not only a biological inevitability but a biological necessity. However, that doesn't make it easier. Especially when it happens to someone you love. It turns out science isn't at all comforting.

Death is never beautiful. A transformation it may be, but beautiful it is not. Neither is it hopeful. My last memory of my father is of his lifeless body in a hospital bed, eyes and mouth hanging open, jaundiced from the liver failure, and swollen from the kidney failure. His last words were "It hurts. Oh, God." 

Grief is physically painful. It hurts in your throat, your stomach, your shoulders and even your feet. It can make you tired and sick. It makes you nauseous. It makes you cold. You not only cry, you cough and wheeze and limp. You shiver under three pre-warmed blankets. 

(They have pre-warmed blankets at hospitals, and the nurses are more than happy to get you some if you need. Nurses, as it turns out, are angels. Every single one. If you are a nurse, I just want to say thank you and that I love you very much for doing what you do. At the same time, doctors are mostly jerks.) 

I haven't really written anything in a long time. I just started drawing again yesterday. Creative endeavors feel really stupid. Like, self-indulgent to the point of being actually harmful to society. I haven't read anything in a long time either. 

I just want to sleep for a month. Or more. 

Oh, and death isn't colorful either. It's just yellow and grey.


End file.
